The Journey of the Magi—and My Own Journey of Wonder

TL;DR: The Magi were not kings, and they did not arrive on the night of Jesus’ birth—their journey likely took months, possibly even up to two years, including preparation and travel. King Herod’s tragic decision was driven by fear after learning when the star first appeared. Childhood traditions like El Día de los Reyes Magos teach patience, anticipation, and meaning, reminding us that faith is often a long journey—one that is always worth taking.

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Growing up in Puerto Rico, Christmas didn’t end on December 25th.

Yes, Santa Claus came on Christmas Day, and that morning was always special. I’d wake up excited, knowing I’d receive some of the toys I had asked for. But deep down, I also knew something else—the story wasn’t finished yet.

The real anticipation came later.

January 6th: El Día de los Reyes Magos

As a child, El Día de los Reyes Magos—Three Kings Day—felt even more exciting than Christmas. Why? Because I believed that whatever toys didn’t arrive on December 25th would surely come on January 6th. To me, it felt like the completion of the story.

The night before, I followed the tradition my mother taught me. I would place an empty shoebox inside the house, usually near the door. Inside the box, I’d leave grass for the camels and a few cookies for the Kings. I’d also pour a glass of milk. Just one. Not three—which still makes me laugh today.

The next morning, the shoebox would be empty.
The milk would be gone.

Only later did I truly understand what was behind that magic.

It was the love of a mother—getting up either very late at night or very early in the morning—quietly making sure the illusion stayed intact. She never skipped a beat. The grass was gone. The cookies were eaten. The milk was finished. Mothers are special like that. They protect wonder without asking for credit.

Looking back now, I can’t help but smile at my own innocence. The amount of grass I left barely filled half the shoebox. It never occurred to me that there were three Kings—and three camels. LOL. That’s the innocence of a child: believing fully, without measuring, without questioning.

And for a moment, the magic felt real.

Even though I understood—even as a child—that the reason for the season was the birth of Jesus, I was still just a kid. And like any kid, presents were exciting. They felt special. They represented waiting, hope, and joy wrapped in tradition.

Eventually, reality did what it always does—it caught up. I realized the Three Kings, like Santa Claus, were part of a tradition lovingly upheld by parents who wanted to preserve wonder and innocence.

But interestingly, the meaning didn’t disappear.
It evolved.

As an Adult, I Asked Harder Questions

As an adult, one of my bigger regrets is this:
I never taught my children about Los Tres Reyes Magos.

My justification at the time felt sound. I made sure my children knew that Christmas was about Jesus and His birth. We went to Christmas services together—beautiful, meaningful services that are still some of my favorite family memories. In our home, Santa was secondary. Jesus came first.

Still, children are children.

They acknowledged Jesus’ birth—but they welcomed the presents.

I remember thinking back then that maybe we should give them their gifts on January 6th instead. But socially, it felt complicated. All the other kids received gifts on December 25th. I didn’t want my children to feel left out or different. So I went with the flow.

And we skipped that part of the story.

Something I’m not particularly proud of—but something I’ve learned from.

Because “Every experience teaches you something if you pay attention.”

Perspective Changes the Story

Looking back now, I don’t see failure—I see humanity. Parenting doesn’t come with a perfect manual. “Chasing perfection freezes growth; progress transforms you.” I did the best I could with what I understood at the time.

And maybe that’s the lesson.

“Sometimes life doesn’t need to change—your perspective does.”

I didn’t abandon faith. I didn’t remove Jesus from the center. I simply adapted to the environment around me. “Life doesn’t adapt to you—you adapt to life.”

What matters now is what comes next.

Because “If things aren’t okay yet, the story isn’t finished.”

The Star, the King, and a Tragic Decision

Scripture tells us that King Herod was deeply troubled when the Magi arrived asking about the newborn King of the Jews. He questioned them carefully about when the star first appeared.

That detail matters.

Herod was calculating. Based on their answer, he concluded the star may have appeared up to two years earlier. That is why he ordered the killing of boys two years old and under—a tragic reaction rooted in fear.

“You can’t control life, only how you react to it.”
Herod chose fear. The Magi chose faith.

The Magi Were Not Kings—and Their Journey Took Time

The Bible calls them Magi—wise men, scholars, astronomers from the East. Their journey was not impulsive. It likely involved months, even years, of preparation, study, planning, and travel.

They didn’t wait for certainty.
“Hope won’t move your life forward; action will.”

They didn’t need every answer.
“You don’t need all the answers to begin.”

They simply followed the light they were given.

What They Brought—and Why It Mattered

The gifts were intentional:

• Gold for a King

• Frankincense for divinity

• Myrrh for sacrifice

Their gifts reflected character, not convenience. “Ability opens doors; character keeps them open.”

Passing the Tradition Forward—with Grace

Living in Miami today, even with a strong Latin community, Los Reyes Magos isn’t widely practiced. Everything centers on Santa Claus—and I say this without judgment.

Children aren’t wrong for loving Santa. Parents aren’t wrong for wanting joy and normalcy. But historically and spiritually, the Magi—and Jesus Himself—are the heart of the story.

I would love to pass this tradition down to my grandchildren. And this time, I believe I can do it with wisdom instead of pressure.

Because “A strong ‘why’ overcomes obstacles.”
And “It’s never too late to change direction.”

What This Story Means to Me Now

The shoebox is gone.
The grass and cookies are memories.

But the lesson remains.

Faith takes time.
Perspective brings healing.
And growth allows us to do better next time.

“Acceptance is the foundation of growth.”
And “You are allowed to start over.”

Just like the Magi, the journey itself changes us long before we arrive.

And this time, the journey continues—forward, with grace.